My mind is harassing me tonight. I have been enveloped lately in thinking about my upcoming cross country trip. What this trip means for me. I have had this longing recently, this pining for something or someone, a comfort of some sort with which I can share my innermost thoughts. I'm hoping this trip will be a venue for me to do this.
Reading John Steinbeck's memoir about driving cross-country, I realize that this longing for something unknown, out of the ordinary afflicts many people in America. Steinbeck explores this concept in himself and in the characters he meets scattered across this great country. And I find myself in a sense through his travels, but I'm hoping to find myself through my own travels as well.
Why is loneliness and longing so tangible? Every time I get these pangs, I can feel them coming from a mile off and they linger for days, weeks, even months, like the satisfaction of eating a rich piece of chocolate cake, or the persistence of being overcome with the flu.
However persistent and tangible these pangs of loneliness/longing are, they are so incomplete and unfulfilled. They are begging to be filled up, to be rife with joy and satisfaction, happiness and laughter. The lack of these elements, I believe, causes the longing to grow and grow, until it envelopes my entire being, so my heart, mind, and soul are all craving something as tangible as the longing itself, something that will fulfill all desire and want.
I am reminded of my youth. When I was 2, 3 years old and I would get hungry, I would go into the kitchen, open up all the cabinets, stare at all the boxes of food, and boldly declare, "I want some-sing...I want some-SING!" (my "th" sounds weren't greatly developed at this time period). What I wanted wasn't necessarily a sweet piece of candy, or a salty pretzel, it was the feeling of fulfillment. The feeling of filling in a void, the void occupied inside of me by want, by longing, by desire.
I need some-sing now to fill up this void of want, longing, and desire that's inside of me.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Taxi Driver
As I tend to do when in a city and taking a taxi ride, I embarked on a lovely conversation on Friday night in Philadelphia with our driver named Said. Now, I know that looks like the word "said," but it is actually pronounced "Sayid." We actually discussed the pronunciation and phonetics of his name in our conversation.
Getting in the car, Said seemed skeptical to talk to me. Even when I asked his name, he kind of smirked shyly, clearly taken off-guard by my openness and immediate friendliness. But he divulged anyway. As arduous as that proved to be, so was the next question I asked him. "Where are you from?" "Philadelphia." "No, where are you from originally?" (Said was clearly African, with a strong accent). "Africa." "Where in Africa?" "West Africa." "That's not a country...what country are you from?" "Ivory Coast." What a circuitous way of finding out where someone is from.
This openness led to much talk on Ivory Coast, our conversation ranging from west Africa's leaders--tyrannical, corrupt, and aggressive--to the people in Ivory Coast--extremely poor. When I asked, that since Ivory Coast is a democratic nation, how come the people don't elect a leader who would do better for them? Said's response was that the leaders go around and pressure, almost bribe, the townspeople with food or money in order to get their vote. In my heart, I wanted the townspeople to be strong and elect someone who could actually implement a positive change for them. But, when I thought about it, I realized if I were in that economic situation, I would probably be the same way as they.
Said, who has been in this country for about ten years, expressed a certain sense of joy and accomplishment at Barack Obama's historic nomination as the first African-American major party presidential candidate. We talked about the people in Kenya, a country near to Ivory Coast, who were rejoicing at this victory, as Said seemed to have done in his own indistinct sense as well. We had both known, through news reports, that Barack had an uncle from Kenya whose name was Said Obama, which is how I knew how to spell my driver's name correctly, as opposed to the more Muslim (I suppose) way of spelling Sayid.
Driving through Manayunk at this point (our destination was Roxborough, the next town over, at my friend Kim's apartment), it occurred to me that I stumbled upon an extremely bright, well-informed African-American taxi driver from Ivory Coast. I decided to ask Said how he got so educated. Apparently, he dropped out of school many years ago, not progressing past elementary school, it seemed, and got his information primarily from the news. I was dually impressed. But, I was a little disappointed, and I feel like the scholarly world was losing out on this bright mind, so I implored him to in some way go to school, whether it was community college or GED, some kind of schooling. I told him it was the teacher in me that wanted his bright mind educated. I don't know if I was being pretentious at this point--I really was sincere the whole time--but I really felt like the world would be a better place, especially with his opinions on politics and what is wrong in Africa, if Said contributed to the greater well-being through his academics as opposed to his motor vehicle skills. I left the cab feeling accomplished, whether Said takes my advice or not, that I at least put the thought into his head, and had a wonderfully intelligent conversation with a complete stranger and a completely opposite person to myself.
Getting in the car, Said seemed skeptical to talk to me. Even when I asked his name, he kind of smirked shyly, clearly taken off-guard by my openness and immediate friendliness. But he divulged anyway. As arduous as that proved to be, so was the next question I asked him. "Where are you from?" "Philadelphia." "No, where are you from originally?" (Said was clearly African, with a strong accent). "Africa." "Where in Africa?" "West Africa." "That's not a country...what country are you from?" "Ivory Coast." What a circuitous way of finding out where someone is from.
This openness led to much talk on Ivory Coast, our conversation ranging from west Africa's leaders--tyrannical, corrupt, and aggressive--to the people in Ivory Coast--extremely poor. When I asked, that since Ivory Coast is a democratic nation, how come the people don't elect a leader who would do better for them? Said's response was that the leaders go around and pressure, almost bribe, the townspeople with food or money in order to get their vote. In my heart, I wanted the townspeople to be strong and elect someone who could actually implement a positive change for them. But, when I thought about it, I realized if I were in that economic situation, I would probably be the same way as they.
Said, who has been in this country for about ten years, expressed a certain sense of joy and accomplishment at Barack Obama's historic nomination as the first African-American major party presidential candidate. We talked about the people in Kenya, a country near to Ivory Coast, who were rejoicing at this victory, as Said seemed to have done in his own indistinct sense as well. We had both known, through news reports, that Barack had an uncle from Kenya whose name was Said Obama, which is how I knew how to spell my driver's name correctly, as opposed to the more Muslim (I suppose) way of spelling Sayid.
Driving through Manayunk at this point (our destination was Roxborough, the next town over, at my friend Kim's apartment), it occurred to me that I stumbled upon an extremely bright, well-informed African-American taxi driver from Ivory Coast. I decided to ask Said how he got so educated. Apparently, he dropped out of school many years ago, not progressing past elementary school, it seemed, and got his information primarily from the news. I was dually impressed. But, I was a little disappointed, and I feel like the scholarly world was losing out on this bright mind, so I implored him to in some way go to school, whether it was community college or GED, some kind of schooling. I told him it was the teacher in me that wanted his bright mind educated. I don't know if I was being pretentious at this point--I really was sincere the whole time--but I really felt like the world would be a better place, especially with his opinions on politics and what is wrong in Africa, if Said contributed to the greater well-being through his academics as opposed to his motor vehicle skills. I left the cab feeling accomplished, whether Said takes my advice or not, that I at least put the thought into his head, and had a wonderfully intelligent conversation with a complete stranger and a completely opposite person to myself.
Grizzly Man
Just watched the documentary Grizzly Man about crazed grizzly bear enthusiast Timothy Treadwell. He studied grizzly bears in their natural Alaskan habitat for 13 years. Ironically, but not surprisingly, he was mauled and killed by a grizzly in 2001.
The director and narrator said something extremely profound at the end of the film, about Timothy's death, but also about nature and human nature in general, something that I hope to discover this summer on my own foray into nature:
Treadwell is gone.
The argument how wrong
or how right he was
disappears into a distance
into a fog.
What remains is his footage.
And while we watch the animals
in their joys of being,
in their grace
and ferociousness,
a thought becomes
more and more clear.
That it is not so much
a look at wild nature
as it is an insight
into ourselves, our nature.
And that, for me,
beyond his mission,
gives meaning to his life
and to his death.
The director and narrator said something extremely profound at the end of the film, about Timothy's death, but also about nature and human nature in general, something that I hope to discover this summer on my own foray into nature:
Treadwell is gone.
The argument how wrong
or how right he was
disappears into a distance
into a fog.
What remains is his footage.
And while we watch the animals
in their joys of being,
in their grace
and ferociousness,
a thought becomes
more and more clear.
That it is not so much
a look at wild nature
as it is an insight
into ourselves, our nature.
And that, for me,
beyond his mission,
gives meaning to his life
and to his death.
Monday, May 5, 2008
I never meant to cause you trouble
Sometimes I just need a walk in the woods to clear up the constant clutter that flutters through my brain like a commercial, like an infomercial that seems endless in the night. The guy trying to sell the Bowflex, you know the guy with the pony tail who never stops exercising? He does the Bowflex, the elliptical, while we are sitting on our asses staring at the man who is exercising. Yet, for some reason, we are compelled to watch, to stare into oblivion for a time. It's nice to get out and erase that, change the channel from the oblivion for awhile.
It's nice to go for a drive. To roll the windows down, blast the music, soar along the (open) highway, racing towards the sunset, everything else in life on hold. Sometimes my life gets overwhelming, and it's nice to just step back--while moving forward. That's kinda life though. I can be standing completely still, but there are still a million things going on in my brain. While I sleep, my eyes are moving constantly, randomly, out of my control. Yet during the day, how many moments do we get to perpetually force ourselves into motion, while at the same time halting all of the overwhelming thoughts going on in our brains? Not too often, in my opinion.
Sometimes it's just nice to listen to a song, and not worry about anything else that's going on. Like right now, I'm sitting on a futon in my guest room, a disgustingly pale green color permeating the walls, the light from the broken lamp-shaded lamp shining in my eyes, Comedy Central muted on the TV, window open, barely any sounds outside, and I can't stop listening to "Trouble" by Coldplay, a song I just rediscovered on an old friend's myspace page. It's nice to harmlessly put the mind at ease, something done all too often in all too harmful ways--drugs, alcohol, other addictions. Yet there are saving graces, like nature, like music, the little parts of life that serve as life's stress ball. I haven't really seen the stress ball lately. Was there a significant phase in this country where people were buying and using stress balls to relieve stress? It's amazing that this period has come and gone, and begs the question--what are people doing nowadays to reduce stress? I think it's important to know what your stress ball is. I think I know what mine is...I guess I'll just keep squeezing til I find out.
It's nice to go for a drive. To roll the windows down, blast the music, soar along the (open) highway, racing towards the sunset, everything else in life on hold. Sometimes my life gets overwhelming, and it's nice to just step back--while moving forward. That's kinda life though. I can be standing completely still, but there are still a million things going on in my brain. While I sleep, my eyes are moving constantly, randomly, out of my control. Yet during the day, how many moments do we get to perpetually force ourselves into motion, while at the same time halting all of the overwhelming thoughts going on in our brains? Not too often, in my opinion.
Sometimes it's just nice to listen to a song, and not worry about anything else that's going on. Like right now, I'm sitting on a futon in my guest room, a disgustingly pale green color permeating the walls, the light from the broken lamp-shaded lamp shining in my eyes, Comedy Central muted on the TV, window open, barely any sounds outside, and I can't stop listening to "Trouble" by Coldplay, a song I just rediscovered on an old friend's myspace page. It's nice to harmlessly put the mind at ease, something done all too often in all too harmful ways--drugs, alcohol, other addictions. Yet there are saving graces, like nature, like music, the little parts of life that serve as life's stress ball. I haven't really seen the stress ball lately. Was there a significant phase in this country where people were buying and using stress balls to relieve stress? It's amazing that this period has come and gone, and begs the question--what are people doing nowadays to reduce stress? I think it's important to know what your stress ball is. I think I know what mine is...I guess I'll just keep squeezing til I find out.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Twenty-two
At such a contemplative, confusing age, this kind of makes sense to me.
From the "Tao Te Ching" by Lao Tsu:
TWENTY-TWO
Yield and overcome;
Bend and be straight;
Empty and be full;
Wear out and be new;
Have little and gain;
Have much and be confused.
Therefore wise men embrace the one
And set an example to all.
Not putting on a display,
They shine forth.
Not justifying themselves,
They are distinguished.
Not boasting,
They receive recognition.
Not bragging,
They never falter.
They do not quarrel,
So no one quarrels with them.
Therefore the ancients say, "Yield and overcome."
Is that an empty saying?
Be really whole,
And all things will come to you.
I love the last two lines...Be really whole, and all things will come to you.
Be really whole :)
From the "Tao Te Ching" by Lao Tsu:
TWENTY-TWO
Yield and overcome;
Bend and be straight;
Empty and be full;
Wear out and be new;
Have little and gain;
Have much and be confused.
Therefore wise men embrace the one
And set an example to all.
Not putting on a display,
They shine forth.
Not justifying themselves,
They are distinguished.
Not boasting,
They receive recognition.
Not bragging,
They never falter.
They do not quarrel,
So no one quarrels with them.
Therefore the ancients say, "Yield and overcome."
Is that an empty saying?
Be really whole,
And all things will come to you.
I love the last two lines...Be really whole, and all things will come to you.
Be really whole :)
Monday, April 21, 2008
Blurry
I have been feeling way too much guilt lately. Guilt for things I've done. Usually one feels guilt for the things he has not done; I feel the opposite.
Mainly, it has involved the use of alcohol. I feel like I can't just go out and have a few. Instead, I find myself in situations where I am buying for more than myself and am looking to go crazy. I don't know why this is happening.
I try and step back just a second and I feel like I can't. The normal response should be, I guess, that I'm 22 years old and this is what happens when you're 22. But, I feel that that response isn't so.
I kind of want to change things as they are right now. I do and I don't. I'm at this in-between stage, I feel like, where I don't know my right from my left. Where what I did and have done before is blurring with what I am doing now.
I feel like I need to cut myself off for awhile. Put down the cell phone, sign off of IM, and start worrying about what me and my family, the people I love, are doing--instead of what I need to be doing with my friends, which has become self-destructive, in a sense. I feel I have gotten into a routine that is destructive and not something I have hoped for in my life. I need to become un-blurred from this.
Mainly, it has involved the use of alcohol. I feel like I can't just go out and have a few. Instead, I find myself in situations where I am buying for more than myself and am looking to go crazy. I don't know why this is happening.
I try and step back just a second and I feel like I can't. The normal response should be, I guess, that I'm 22 years old and this is what happens when you're 22. But, I feel that that response isn't so.
I kind of want to change things as they are right now. I do and I don't. I'm at this in-between stage, I feel like, where I don't know my right from my left. Where what I did and have done before is blurring with what I am doing now.
I feel like I need to cut myself off for awhile. Put down the cell phone, sign off of IM, and start worrying about what me and my family, the people I love, are doing--instead of what I need to be doing with my friends, which has become self-destructive, in a sense. I feel I have gotten into a routine that is destructive and not something I have hoped for in my life. I need to become un-blurred from this.
Monday, February 25, 2008
The Puzzle Piece of Life
Today, I am trying to put the pieces back together. No, nothing tangible has broken. Instead, the pieces are specific answers that I am searching for. Trying to figure out why things happen in life the way they do.
Why a young life can be taken from this world for no apparent reason.
Why a person would drive around on drugs, after having his license revoked 4 times prior.
Why a group of kids would act upset about somebody's death only to get out of class and hang out with their friends.
Why a world breeds such ignorance and insensitivity.
Why a death should bring about the only reflection given to one's life.
Why a person's efforts in life shouldn't be rewarded more often.
Why we all can come and go at any point.
Why the world and everyone who inhabits it can't be all good-natured and warm towards one another?
Read this news article about this young girl who died when she was killed by a driver believed to be on drugs: http://www.newsday.com/news/local/suffolk/ny-lifune0225,0,3358507.story
Angelica sat in the front seat, second from the right. She always had her hand up. She always asked what more she could do to do better. She was the only student to give me a Christmas card my first year teaching. And now she'll have to be remembered only by those acts she so graciously completed during her 14 years on this cruel, unfair Earth.
Angelica was my student, and she always will be my student.
Maybe she'll help me put the puzzle together, to help me understand this cruel and unfair life, where evil always seems to triumph over good in the unfortunate end.
Why a young life can be taken from this world for no apparent reason.
Why a person would drive around on drugs, after having his license revoked 4 times prior.
Why a group of kids would act upset about somebody's death only to get out of class and hang out with their friends.
Why a world breeds such ignorance and insensitivity.
Why a death should bring about the only reflection given to one's life.
Why a person's efforts in life shouldn't be rewarded more often.
Why we all can come and go at any point.
Why the world and everyone who inhabits it can't be all good-natured and warm towards one another?
Read this news article about this young girl who died when she was killed by a driver believed to be on drugs: http://www.newsday.com/news/local/suffolk/ny-lifune0225,0,3358507.story
Angelica sat in the front seat, second from the right. She always had her hand up. She always asked what more she could do to do better. She was the only student to give me a Christmas card my first year teaching. And now she'll have to be remembered only by those acts she so graciously completed during her 14 years on this cruel, unfair Earth.
Angelica was my student, and she always will be my student.
Maybe she'll help me put the puzzle together, to help me understand this cruel and unfair life, where evil always seems to triumph over good in the unfortunate end.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
